


to think our paths are straight

by Meskeet



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Crossover, Dreams, Dreams vs. Reality, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mindmeld aftereffects, Post-Coma, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 01:05:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2903657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meskeet/pseuds/Meskeet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Don’t look at me like a patient, McCoy,” Jim snaps. “Shit, I’m trying to tell you something deep and you’re screwing it up.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"As I was saying,” Jim casts McCoy a mock annoyed glance, “I had some dreams. I think… I think they might have been from Spock’s – the older one – mindmeld with me. I think I saw the other Kirk, the one he knew.”</i>
</p><p>While dealing with the fallout of his near death and coma, Jim wonders how he'd compare to the original version and, as usual, McCoy provides the only voice of reason to the insanity that is James Tiberius Kirk. </p><p>At some point I had a terrible brainchild that whispered 'what would new kirk and old kirk think about each other' and this came out in my post-movie recovery phase.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to think our paths are straight

**Author's Note:**

> Ohhh 2013 writing, we meet again. I've been cleaning out my fic folder and this is one of the pieces I found lurking abotu. 
> 
> Thanks to Spontaneous Me at thebetabranch for being my Trek cheerleader and red_b_rackham for the beta. (Interested in a group of mostly gen beta writers? Google 'thebetabranch' and check us out). 
> 
> Angst and feels, man. Angst and feels. I wanted to write something where new Kirk learned a bit more about the old one, and naturally McCoy wiggled his way in.

“They want to take her away, Bones,” Jim says softly and McCoy’s head snaps up at the remark. “They’re reviewing Marcus’ decisions and want to reevaluate if I’ll keep her.”  


“You will,” McCoy shoots back, because, to him, this has never been in doubt. “You’re the best one for this ship, even if you are a damn fool half the time. We can fight this – Spock will be able to pull out all kind of regulations to-”

Jim puts down the datapad that he’s been aimlessly fiddling with, gently setting it beside him on the biobed. “I don’t know if I want to fight it.”

McCoy almost grabs for a tricorder to see if Jim is suffering from a concussion or otherwise mentally incapacitated. Restraining himself, he replies flatly, “You don’t want the Enterprise. The flagship of Starfleet, one of the most recognizable starships in the galaxy. You don’t want to be a Captain anymore after years of work.  _You?_ ”

“Yeah, me,” Jim doesn’t meet his eyes, instead standing and moving away to pick up a broken tricorder McCoy had left on a lab table next to the bed. He's not surprised when Jim starts examining it with an almost instinctual impulse. “She deserves better.”

McCoy snorts, still too surprised to do much more than say, “You sure you’re still the same Jim that told me he’d be a Captain in three years?” He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth - they're far too cutting, and he knows belatedly how Jim may take them.

“I’m not,” Jim’s shoulders hunched as if expecting another blow, and McCoy realizes something as he turns his friend around with one hand – Jim looks… small. Withdrawn. For the first time since Jim woke up, McCoy narrows his eyes and really looks at his friend instead of just at his captain.

Jim looks tired – eyes sunken, shoulders bowed, posture entirely defensive. His fingers are flying over the tricorder as he takes it apart, and it’s only sheer force of will that stops Bones from pushing Jim onto the nearest bed and sedating him until he gets some sleep.

“Bones, I failed them,” Jim waves a hand at the medbay staff, but McCoy knows it’s not just aimed at them. It’s aimed at McCoy, at Spock, at Uhura and Scotty and Marcus and the list of deceased Spock had read out when they made port. “I put them in danger. Pike,” Jim swallows thickly, “He was right. My recklessness, my attitude – God, McCoy, I was so damn sure of myself. I thought I was doing the right thing, I let the need to see Khan pay make me into someone else.  _I failed them all_.”

McCoy lets out a harsh exhale, eyes narrowing. “Damn it, Jim, you didn’t.  _Look at them,_ ” he waves his arm – a jerky motion – at the medbay staff. “They’re alive. Because of you. You died, and they lived.”

Jim’s trembling, and McCoy pulls him away from the lab table, slipping them into the office McCoy rarely uses. He shuts the door, knowing that whatever words Jim and McCoy will exchange are best left unheard by the crew. James Kirk is the only thing keeping the ragged Enterprise alive.

“If I hadn’t insisted on hunting Khan, they wouldn’t have died. If I hadn’t-“

“If you hadn’t realigned the core, they all would have died,” McCoy hears his voice rising. Jim and McCoy never fought quietly, a fact much belabored by the pair of engineers who had roomed next door to them at the Starfleet Academy. “If Khan hadn’t returned you to the Enterprise when Spock made the switch, you would have died. If Scotty hadn’t resigned, we’d have been annihilated by Marcus. If Spock – either of the uncanny, pointy eared bastards – hadn’t made a different choice…”

“I get it, McCoy. But it doesn’t change my decision,” Jim clenches his fist, the broken tricorder making a small beep of electronic distress. McCoy takes it from him and places it on his desk, using the moment to compose himself, to rally his arguments, to try to find an approach that would show Jim what a stupid, pigheaded bastard he was being.

“Look at it logically-" he cut himself off as he turns back to face Jim. “Shit, I’m turning into Spock.”

Jim smiles at that, but it’s a wan smile. “Sorry, Bones,” he says softly.

McCoy knows that he’s one of the rare few permitted to see Jim this way. Jim trusts his officers implicitly, without reservations, when it comes to his life. His secrets, however, Jim keeps close to his chest.

The doctor sighs, “The crew won’t be happy to see you go.”

“No, they won’t,” Jim’s expression alters slightly, tension drawing around his eyes. “They deserve better.”

McCoy just stops himself from pacing in aggravation around the room and instead leans against his desk and crosses his arms. “Oh, really? Who would you give to them? Marcus? Khan? Spock?” Jim’s fingers clench on the tricorder and McCoy narrows his eyes. “Spock has his uses, but you can be damn sure he’s not you. There’s a difference-“

“Between being a good First Officer and a good Captain, I know,” Jim looks for all the world like a lost child and McCoy’s suddenly aware of the difference between their years. McCoy takes a shaky breath, abruptly reminded of Jim in the coma, and before that, Jim when McCoy opened the body bag.

They’ve lost Jim once, and McCoy wonders if they will again.

In retrospect, thinking of the long weeks of the coma, of Jim throwing himself into paperwork and work, McCoy wonders if they have found him yet.

“McCoy, when I was in the coma,” Jim rubs a hand nervously against the back of his neck, the forgotten tricorder held in his other hand. The Captain remains silent for a few moments more, then looks down at the tricorder and beginning to tweak it once again. “I… I dreamed, a bit.”

“Comatose patients often experience dreams that-“

“Don’t look at me like a patient, McCoy,” Jim snaps. “Shit, I’m trying to tell you something deep and you’re screwing it up.”

McCoy smiles despite himself, uncrossing his arms just enough to make a disarming gesture at Jim that conveys sarcasm and sincere apology to his Captain. 

"As I was saying,” Jim casts McCoy a mock annoyed glance, “I had some dreams. I think… I think they might have been from Spock’s – the older one – mindmeld with me. I think I saw the other Kirk, the one he knew.”

McCoy’s eyes widen before he can conceal his astonishment and he barely bites back the questions springing to mind. 

"I saw you die. I saw Spock die. I saw the Enterprise die,” Jim closes his eyes, gathering himself. “God, he destroyed her and killed the Klingons that had killed his son. Spock, he wasn’t there for that one. But by that point – I don’t know. Maybe I wasn’t seeing just Spock’s memories. Maybe Spock later mindmelded with someone else. I just got flashes… impressions. By that point, he’d already…” Jim opens his eyes. “He sacrificed himself against Khan. Do you know what he told m- Kirk, when he died? The needs of the many outweigh the one. He said he’d never taken the Kobayashi Maru – that his death was his solution.”

McCoy watches his Captain tremble slightly as the tricorder suddenly burst of life in his hands. Calmly, McCoy crosses the room and takes it, half-tempted to glance at the readings on the screen.

He doesn’t, though. Jim – for once – is telling him far more than a piece of medical equipment ever will. 

“Spock lost a brother, in the other reality,” Jim says. “I told him I had, too. We – all of us – lost families in Spock’s universe. I’m not the other Kirk, Bones. I can’t do what he did. I can’t travel in time with Spock, I can’t fight an army of Klingons, and I can’t protect the Enterprise. The ship - she needs someone who can. I’m not who people think I am. Spock’s memories of James Kirk – that’s who the Enterprise deserves. That man? I’m not him. I can’t make miracles, I can’t save us from telepaths or-“

“Jim,” McCoy cuts in when Jim’s voice breaks. “You’re not him. You don’t have to be him.”

“Stardate 4309.2, James Kirk chose which of his best friends he would send to their deaths. I can’t do that. Spock-“

“Fuck Spock,” McCoy pauses and makes a face. “Forget I said that. You saved us from the Romulans. You saved us from Marcus. You saved us from Khan. You saved us from dying countless deaths in space. Without you, we’d have all been sucked into a horrible vacuum and our brains would have burst out of our ears and Sulu would be running this ship, which is still a terrifying prospect.”

“I get it, McCoy. I was the right person at the time.” McCoy sputters at that, but Jim continues, “But I let Khan change me. I watched Scotty walk away without a word and I ignored Spock’s objections. The best decision I made was letting Spock take command.”

Just a temporary depression, McCoy reassures himself. Depression is a common post-surgery symptom and post-traumatic stress is to be expected. Jim-

“Don’t look at me like that, Bones,” Jim says tiredly. “Don’t look at me like I’m one of your patients.”

McCoy does something he rarely does - he capitulates. “We can’t do this without you. We can’t survive years in space as the federation flagship, not without you. We need you, Jim.”

Jim casts him a critical look, and McCoy resists the impulse to squirm. “Bones, are you afraid of the future?”

“I believe that was the general idea that I was trying to convey,” he snaps tiredly. “I applied for a shipboard commission because of you. You’re going to leave me alone in space?”

Jim’s smile is brilliant and for a brief moment, it’s enough to give McCoy hope. “Thanks, Bones,” he says, “It’s… It’s been a good run.”

With that, Jim takes his leave.

McCoy reaches into his desk and pulls out a bottle of scotch he and Scotty enjoyed sharing late at night. Tiredly, he considers putting it away and taking up an extra shift despite his nurses’ protests.

“For old times’ sake,” he mutters, pouring out a generous amount. If Jim has his way, this might be the last time the maverick Captain drives him to alcohol.

Later, he’ll call Spock and tell the First Officer to talk some sense into Jim. But now…

McCoy swishes the drink around wistfully. He sighs and puts it back into his desk.

Jim has a speech to give.  


* * *

“To stop them, we risk awakening the same evil within ourselves. Our first instinct is to seek revenge when those we love are taken from them. But that’s not who we are,” McCoy quotes softly that night as he joins Jim at the balcony of his quarters. Before them, they can see the vast expanse of the wounded London – the scars left by Khan’s rampage. But they can also see the evidence of the city slowly beginning to heal – construction’s already began on reconstructing some of the districts destroyed. 

The younger man jerks, obviously surprised. “Bones,” the nickname is said in a fast exhalation of breath, both a recognition and a concession.

“Jim.” 

McCoy leans against the railing, feeling the cool metal press against his skin. It’s raining – a soft, gentle drizzle that makes him huff with annoyance. 

“Pretty speech,” McCoy comments.

“I had some inspiration,” Jim flashes a quick smile, fleeting and distant. 

“You changed your mind.”

“I had some help,” the Captain admits. “Where would I be without you, McCoy?”

He laughs at that – a genuine laugh of relief, “Without me, Jim? You’d never find your way back.”

His Captain’s body tenses slightly. Jim tilts his head, considering, and McCoy wonders if he’s sparked angst or amusement. “You’re right, Bones,” Jim admits. “I don’t think I ever said this properly. Thank you. For saving me. And for…”

“I know,” McCoy smiles into the gathering darkness, cutting his Captain – his friend – off, “You’re welcome.”

A pause.

McCoy searches for words, and wonders if Jim’s doing the same. The two of them have always had an easy companionship, one where silence spoke more than words. Words McCoy can do – he can whisper them and scream them. Silence… McCoy isn’t so good at that.

“I’m not going to say ‘anytime’,” he continues. “If you ever put me through that again, I’ll kill you myself.”

Jim’s teeth flash in the darkness – a smile, one that McCoy doesn’t see all too often. “Yes, Doctor McCoy.”

“Don’t ever ask me to do that again,” any humor vanishes from his voice. “I… don’t make me make the choice between bringing someone back from the dead and leaving things alone again.”

“You shouldn’t have had to make it in the first place,” Jim pauses. There’s something on the tip of his tongue, McCoy can hear it, but the senior officer remains quiet. “What do you say that we call Spock and Scotty? We can go barhopping, get in a couple fights. You can patch me up when I hit on some asshole’s girlfriend.”

“Just like old times at the Academy?” McCoy pauses as laughter peels from the sidewalk below, and two crewmen stagger across the pavement. “All that time in space, getting on each other’s nerves. And what do we do on our downtime? We spend it together. Other people have families.”

Jim doesn’t reply and McCoy looks at him. The Captain of the Enterprise gapes at him in open astonishment, for once looking completely off balance. The doctor gives Jim a curious look. 

"Other people, Bones. Not us,” the words come slowly. “One of those dreams… you said exactly that.”

McCoy shrugs, already thinking of a good, Terran-brewed scotch. He doesn’t need to concern himself with alternate timelines and things that could have been. Instead, he turns from the balcony and the ragged London before him and heads for the door.

“Let it stay a dream, Jim,” he orders. “If you’re going to make me spend time with that pointy-eared hobgoblin, you’re buying my drinks tonight.”

“One day, Bones,” Jim calls after him, “You two are going to get along just fine.”

McCoy pauses in the open doorway, looking incredulously at his friend. “Damn it Jim,” he says in a weak protest of the conviction in his friend’s voice. “I’m a doctor, not a saint.”

As the door closes behind him, Jim yells, “They said saints used to raise the dead!”

 


End file.
